


Whispers Around the Trees

by captaineifersucht



Series: Dressed in the Scenery [6]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaineifersucht/pseuds/captaineifersucht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Bard had worked hard to plan all of this for his lover, and wasn’t sure who he was more angry with--the model whose hands were where only his should be, or Thranduil for allowing the touch to continue even now that Bard was present.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers Around the Trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chais_cigarettes_and_cumberbatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chais_cigarettes_and_cumberbatch/gifts).



> The lovely chais_cigarettes_and_cumberbatch gave me a list of great ideas for this AU and I had some time today! They wanted to see some jealous sex after Thranduil gets hit on--which I mean, who wouldn't?! I hope it lives up to your expectations!

Bard could feel his heartbeat in his throat, red clouding the edges of his vision. His muscles were tense and rigid, gluing him to the spot when all he wanted was to cause bodily harm to the man not ten feet away from him.

He was beautiful, of course, toned chest and biceps, tanned skin, a perfectly angular face. His clothing had come from Thranduil’s hands, and his words were sweet. There was a small smirk on his face, a knowing, expecting one, as he leaned closer to the blond, whispering into his ear now, a hand on his waist.

That was enough to spur Bard’s limbs to life. He nearly dropped the bouquet in his right hand--flame calla lilies, pale orange roses, and burnt orange hypericum berries tied with a thick green ribbon--in his haste. 

“ Thranduil,” he said coolly when near enough to be heard over the din. The other man’s latest clothing line was being photographed for a prestigious fashion magazine. It was a great accomplishment, and Bard had visited with the intent of whisking away his stressed out lover to a simple brunch at a bistro down the street. The table he had reserved was decorated with similar floral arrangements and he had in his back pocket a brochure for a cabin he’d rented for the following weekend. It was quiet, secluded, and had a hot tub overlooking the mountains and forests. Legolas would babysit the kids, and the two of them would get some necessary alone-time.

Bard had worked hard to plan all of this for his lover, and wasn’t sure who he was more angry with--the model whose hands were where only his should be, or Thranduil for allowing the touch to continue even now that Bard was present.

As if on cue, Thranduil shoved the fingers away from where his jersey-knit v-neck was riding up, exposing a line of pale skin. Bard’s rage swelled. 

“ Bard,” the blond gasped, stepping towards him and turning fully from the model. “ Stephan was just leaving. Weren’t you?”

Stephan winked and Bard dropped the flowers. He grabbed the model’s wrist with a snarl. Thranduil touched his shoulder, begging for him to let it go.

The adrenaline was dissipating from his system. Bard could sense the quieting of their surroundings, people stopping. He didn’t want to make a scene, or upset Thranduil. Not around his employees. He released the limb from his grasp and turned to face his lover.

“ I love you,” Thranduil said. His blue eyes were shiny with unshed tears, hands grasping at Bard’s to clasp together their palms. “ He started hitting on me, and I didn’t know what to do…”

Bard let his fingers become intertwined with long, thin ones, felt the callouses on the thumbs from years of working with needles. Soft lips pressed against the line of his jaw, tugged at the sleeve of his leather jacket. 

“ Please, Bard.”

He used their joined hands to tug Thranduil out of the open area, scooping up the flowers along the way. Hunger for food had disappeared, leaving only a raw desire to reclaim what was his. Lust welled up in the pit of his stomach, setting his mouth into a hard line when he pulled Thranduil into the elevator. 

“ You have an office here?”

“ No, but there’s a conference room on--”

“ How far away is your apartment?”

Bard met Thranduil’s eyes, which widened. The designer was delicately holding the bouquet now, thumbs brushing over glossy stems and thin petals. “ About ten minutes.”

“ I’ll drive.” They exited the building and Bard led them to his car. Thranduil had to direct him around some back streets until Bard could orientate himself and make the rest of the journey unassisted. Aside from murmured turns and names of streets, and the soft whisper of the radio, the trip was silent.

Thranduil’s loft apartment was on the seventh floor. Bard closed and locked the door behind them, circling his lover like a predator as he retrieved a vase of water.

“ You let him _touch_ you, Thranduil.” He gripped the granite countertop, knuckles white. “ How far would you have let him go if I hadn’t showed up? Am I not doing enough, paying you enough attention?”

“ No!” Thranduil’s hand was on his bicep, fingers splayed and squeezing through the fabric. “ You’re doing plenty. I was just...I don’t know, he cornered me. It wouldn’t have gone farther, I swear.” 

Bard was working himself up, thinking of scenarios and words whispered before he’d even got there. He pushed off Thranduil’s coat without a care, hand going to the place where his shirt had been bunched up. The anger was swirling at the base of his spine again, making the kiss he initiated rough and unforgiving. His teeth nipped at Thranduil’s lips, tongue pressing over molars and canines, a hand holding the other’s chin in place. 

“ Swear to God, Thranduil, he was huge, you were leading him on. He would’ve done what he liked. With your fucking tight ass,” Bard grabbed a handful of the flesh, squeezed and used it to manhandle the other man to the bedroom. “ What happened to it being only me?”

He was growling into the pale line of the other man’s neck, leaving sucks and bites between his points. Bard pressed his fingers between the other man’s cheeks, rubbing through the thin fabric of his leggings. 

“ I’m only yours,” Thranduil panted, pressing his ass back. “ Bard, please.”

Bard went to press the blond to the mattress, but found himself shoved backwards. He watched, transfixed, as Thranduil slipped out of his clothing, and pulled Bard’s own pants down far enough to release his throbbing erection. It was perhaps inappropriate, that he was so aroused by the thought of erasing any mark that the model had left on Thranduil, but the blond didn’t give it a second thought.

Pink lips slipped over the head of his cock, tongue dabbing at the slit to taste the singular drop of precum. Bard let out a low moan, fingers tangling into smooth, white blond locks of hair. He tugged at the roots, letting his lover work over his length, saliva dripping out to wet his pubic hair. When Thranduil’s mouth pulled off with a pop, Bard pulled him upwards.

“ You’re completely mine.” Bard kissed him, sloppily, tasting himself in the other’s mouth.

“ Yes,” Thranduil agreed breathily, his ass rubbing back against Bard’s cock. There was a small container pressed into his palm as the hips rocked rhythmically against his own.

Bard wasn’t slow when pressing two fingers into his lover’s hole, curling them to rub Thranduil’s prostate. He didn’t relent as he saw the other’s cock jerk and leak onto his shirt, milking moans and shivers from the thin man. Thranduil’s body accepted three fingers, working back to the very last knuckle as he straddled Bard’s torso. 

“ Gonna let me fuck you, baby?” 

Thranduil nodded as he bit back a cry, pulling off of the fingers. Bard gave himself a few cursory strokes with his slicked hand, steadying the base so Thranduil could sink back onto him.

“ So fuckin’ tight,” he groaned as his glans popped past the rim, resisting the urge to thrust upwards, into the wet heat of Thranduil. He let the designer control the pace, watched his pale cheeks turn red, his lips part in a silent cry just as his head tipped back in pleasure. 

Bard cupped Thranduil’s ass with one hand and used the other to stroke his wilting erection, work it back to life despite the stretch. Slowly, the blond began to raise and lower himself along Bard’s length, moans forced from below his diaphragm on every down stroke. Thranduil worked to a quick rhythm, hiccups of sounds escaping his lips as he clawed at Bard’s shirt.

“ Fuck, yes,” Bard hummed, unable to resist fucking into Thranduil, throwing off his pacing. “ That ass belongs to me, huh? Your cock, too, that’s mine--right, baby?”

Thranduil’s response was a whine as Bard found his prostate, thrusting deep, hard, into the sensitive spot as his fist worked a punishing speed on the purpling head of his cock. “ Yes, Bard, yes, I’m all yours--Fuck!”

His eyes were squeezed shut, jaw slack as ropes of cum spurted across the sweaty fabric stretched across Bard’s chest. Thranduil pushed himself down fully onto Bard’s cock, grinding his hips as his inner muscles spasmed and clenched. 

Bard’s words became incoherent in the wake of his own orgasm, waves of mind-numbing pleasure washing over his brain, soothing the last remains of his jealousy. He had thoroughly marked Thranduil--inside and out, emotionally and physically. There was no worry that the other would stray, not even earlier, but his primal and carnal needs were satisfied.

He could feel his own release cooling around him as their lips met again, gentler this time. Bard’s clothing was thoroughly soiled, but he had a drawer of extras here.

“ We can still make brunch, if you want. Take a shower, get some food.”

Thranduil nodded, but there was a familiar tiredness glazing his eyes. He wanted to sleep. Bard helped the blond roll off of him and carried his lover to the bathroom, placing a kiss atop his brow. If they made it out for food, they did. If they didn’t, Bard still had a week-long trip planned for them where he could cook brunch every day, in between proving his devotion and commitment to the beautiful man who was slowly falling asleep in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr found here](http://www.lemonscientist.tumblr.com)


End file.
